Tyran Holiday
by Strapless
Summary: This was not how Miri planned on spending Midwinter.


**Disclaimer: **It's probably quite clear that I have no ownership claims to the characters, world, etc. I'm simply playing in the world Ms. Pierce created.

**Author's Notes:** Originally written in December 2007 and quickly rendered irrelevant by the passage of time—and other holidays—but now no more. 'Tis the season!

"**Tyran Holiday"**

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"Now what, O wise one?"

Evin turned a scathing look on her that would have boiled water. Not this water, though, which was half dirt and rotting vegetation to begin with. He poked his nose back into his map, trying to read it in what little dying afternoon sunlight penetrated through the branches overhead.

Miri wrinkled her own nose as she shifted her weight, hearing the squelch and feeling the mud slide under her heels. There was a sharp, irritating prick on her arm and she slapped away yet another mosquito. Behind her, their ponies were occupied in much the same task. Their tails swished loudly and they were constantly turning with a jingle of metal against leather to nip at their sides. She heard Indigo shake his head, and then the gelding shoved the side of his face against her shoulder to rub an itch, nearly pitching her face first into the muck. Distractedly, Evin reached out an arm and kept her from falling. He still wore his coat, though the hem trailed in the murky water. That had probably been the smartest thing he'd done all day, since he was little bothered by the damned bloodsucking insects.

"Nice shortcut," she commented acerbically again, grabbing the pony by the bridle and shoving his head away.

"It's supposed to be right through here," Evin muttered, still squinting at the map.

Miri had to physically restrain herself from shoving Evin into the muck. She had to settle for shouting at him instead. There was no one but the ponies to hear for miles. "We're near the Tyran border in the middle of winter! That doesn't mean the swamp freezes over—it just means the mud gets cold. That hedgewitch at the crossroads was speaking in literal terms when she said murky going ahead!"

"I thought she was speaking metaphorically," Evin said to his map.

"Ha!"

If they weren't all knee deep in a swamp right now, she would've stomped off and left Evin and his blasted map to rot, assistant commander to the Commander or not. They had gotten this far down the so called shortcut before their ponies had planted their feet and refused to go any further. Out of the four of them, Miri figured Indigo and Loverboy were the smartest two at the moment. She wasn't about to discount the tough little mountain ponies' instincts after years of partnership with them. Indigo had saved her sorry butt on a number of occasions and she didn't need wild magic to understand that the gelding was saying not to go any farther.

Her eyes darted about their surroundings, which were fading into gloom much more quickly than she liked. The sun was blocked by the thick trees that rose impossibly out of the pervasive muck, draped with swatches of hanging moss. A mist was starting to rise up on the surface of the water and every now and then she'd hear a plop or a creak and half jump out of her skin. The place instantly went to the top of her list of downright creepiest places in Tortall, beating out that time they'd snuck into the palace catacombs on a dare and the coastal caves littered with pirate bones.

Miri wracked her mind, trying to remember anything from their trainee lessons about swampland. The Wave Walker only knew what was hiding under that murky surface right now. Water snakes and turtles with snapping jaws, alligators and poisonous lizards. Her toes curled up in her boots in response to some primitive instinct for self-preservation, although her mind wondered how that was going to do the rest of her body any good. The poor ponies didn't even have anything between them and the swamp water. It was a good thing mountain ponies didn't need shoes, because they'd have lost them by now.

Something whisked by overhead with a faint flapping-buzzing noise and Miri grabbed for Evin's arm, suppressing a shriek.

"_Evin_..."

He looked up as the biggest dragonfly they'd ever seen flew into their field of vision. Wings included, it had to be the size of her head. They both stared in horror as a smaller, but still ridiculously large insect flew into view and was immediately attacked by the dragonfly. Miri and Evin would have found their petrified expressions comical had they been on someone else.

"Holy mother of Mithros," Evin breathed. "What in the name of—"

He broke off as a screeching sound echoed off the water in the distance. They both froze, the map held loosely, forgotten, in Evin's hands and Miri clutching his arm. Even the ponies went quiet. A crackling sound like breaking wood came after the screech, and that was quickly followed by a splash.

"See that log over there?" Miri asked quietly, loosening the fingers of one hand to point.

"That one a few yards away?"

She nodded and whispered, "It just moved its tail."

Then they both stared, wide eyed, as ripples of movement emanated from the log and a yellow eye appeared above the surface of the water, looking at them reproachfully.

Miri released her death grip on Evin's arm and went snatching at Indigo's reins. "I'm outta here!" she declared, towing the surprised pony behind her.

"Right behind you!" she heard Evin quickly agree, splashing and squelching after her.

---

An hour or so later, two ponies and riders emerged onto the backwoods trade road that skirted the marshes and swamps of the delta where the Drell River met the Inland Sea. Both mounts and humans were covered with enough mud to fill Tyra itself. Most of it was concentrated below the waist, although the young man of the pair had a distinct splat adorning the back of his coat that was too perfectly centered to have been accidental. Their ponies almost appeared to be disembodied apparitions floating along the road, their legs were so completely darkened by mud.

The old hedgewitch at the crossroads wasn't fooled. Her mouth formed into a toothy smile as the riders passed her for the second time that day, still perched on the back steps of her wagon, surrounded by her amulets and charms for sale while her swaybacked mule cropped at the grass nearby. She raised a hand into the sunset's light, either beckoning or hailing.

"Clear roads ahead!" she called in a surprisingly steady, brazen voice.

The young woman turned to her companion. "I told you so."

The man had the grace to look sheepish. "Happy Midwinter?" he tried.

The woman scowled, pulling her coat closer about her neck. "Just shut up and keep riding."

As the riders disappeared into the growing darkness, a black cat wound its way out of the wagon and placed itself in the hedgewitch's lap. Absently, she stroked its fur with scarlet lacquered nails and the cat turned its head to look at her through purple eyes, mewling a question.

The Crone smiled.

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End file.
